


We go together like the winter and a sweater

by its_marchie



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Christmas fic, Fluff, Hashtag SantaIsReal2k14, M/M, Mistletoe, brief mention of Shitty as a magical moustached lumberjack, everyone is cute and nothing hurts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-18
Updated: 2014-12-18
Packaged: 2018-02-26 05:01:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2638979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/its_marchie/pseuds/its_marchie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Fuck, I was supposed to go to Tampa, too,” Nursey groaned and faceplanted into a pillow.<br/>“Aw, don’t be sad, guys! We can have a great Christmas here! It’ll be just like home!!” Chowder smiled at the defenceman.<br/>“Y’know what, Chowder,” Bitty called from the kitchen, “that’s an excellent idea! Our first Samwell Christmas! We can decorate and make dinner and watch movies! Oh, I gotta ask Mother for her roasted chicken recipe!” The small forward bounded up the stairs and disappeared into his room.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We go together like the winter and a sweater

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheCrazyFreak](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCrazyFreak/gifts).



> for Anja- Happy Christmas, dear! Sorry this is so late! I was caught up with finals and work and just ughhhhh but I hope you like reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! :)
> 
> Thank-You's:  
> HUGE thanks to Abbey for listening to this fic idea as I TOTALLY improvised it during intermission of the Bruins game/when I was supposed to be finishing my French thesis.  
> Thanks to Ngozi, for without whom we would not have this beautiful masterpiece of a comic otherwise known as Check, Please!  
> As for everyone else, I hope you have a very merry holiday season! May you have lots of snow days this year ;)
> 
> General notes:  
> I know they don't cancel flights multiple days in advance and shut down the entire state before the snow arrives, but for the sake of the story, let's pretend they do.  
> Unbeta'd so it probs has a few mistakes, but hashtag YOLO.  
> Rated G even though there is some swearing.  
> There's that weird little "Jack's POV" paragraph, but it's there just for the sake of back story. 
> 
> Title from "Ho Ho Hopefully" by The Maine.

          "Why isn't it snowing yet?" Bitty huffed as he drew back the curtains to scan the street below the Haus. The Weather Channel had said that the Nor’easter was supposed to make landfall that afternoon; it was already one and although thick, heavy clouds threatened snow, no actual flakes had fallen. With another moment of pressing his forehead to the chilled glass of the window, he turned back to head downstairs. There was pie to be made, chicken to roast, and like hell he was gonna let Ransom and Holster anywhere near his oven again. His shoulders still ached from lugging in the Christmas tree after Shitty had gone into the fucking forest to chop down the Haus Christmas tree with an axe (“Bits, don’t ever fucking suggest a fake tree again-” _whack_ \- “It’s sacrilege.” _Whack_.) Bitty could hear Nursey and Dex playfully bickering- thank God they had fixed their shit in November- while Holster gave direction to Ransom about the “proper way” to arrange fireplace logs.

          _It was originally Chowder’s idea to do a team dinner: the team’s last practice was on the eighteenth and before any of them had the chance to move out, Winter Storm Niklaus decided to royally fuck up travel in and out of eastern Massachusetts and the rest of New England, even though no snow had actually fallen when the Northeast corridor decided to declare a state of emergency._

_“So we can’t even go home?” Dex whined as he kicked off his shoes and threw himself onto the couch._

_“I’d deem that a big fucking nope, brah,” Shitty elbowed him._

_“They even cancelled out of Bradley International?” Nursey asked, almost afraid of what he might hear._

_“Yeah, Connecticut’s gonna be hit the hardest.”_

_“Fuck, I was supposed to go to Tampa, too,” Nursey groaned and faceplanted into a pillow._

_“Aw, don’t be sad, guys! We can have a great Christmas here! It’ll be just like home!!” Chowder smiled at the defenceman._

_“Y’know what, Chowder,” Bitty called from the kitchen, “that’s an excellent idea! Our first Samwell Christmas! We can decorate and make dinner and watch movies! Oh, I gotta ask Mother for her roasted chicken recipe!” The small forward bounded up the stairs and disappeared into his room._

_“What’s happening?” Jack appeared in his doorway, rubbing his eyes sleepily._

_“We’re doing Christmas at the-” Bitty turned around and stopped mid-sentence. Jack was still in his pajamas, threadbare Habs sweatpants hanging low on his hips and an Arctic Monkeys tee hugging his broad shoulders. His hair was a beautifully rumpled mess and his face had become softer, jaw unclenched and lips not drawn into a tight line._

_“What?”_

_“Oh, uh,” Bitty could feel the blush spread from his cheeks to his neck, “we’re having Christmas here this year. All the airports are closed and the commuter rails shut down, so we decided to have Christmas just like we would at home! Dinner dress is casual, but a shirt without hockey is requested.”_

_“Alright, I can do that,” Jack turned away to walk back to his room._

_“Oh, and could you possibly go with Lardo to grab some lights for the tree? Chowder’s making the ornaments.”_

_“Sure, Bittle.”_

_“Thanks, Jack,” Bitty flashed a brilliant smile and opened Skype on his laptop, undoubtedly preparing to ask her for the chicken recipe._

         ~*~*~*~*~*~

           "Ah fuck," Jack sighed as he dug through the piles to find something halfway fucking decent to wear besides gameday suits (because hello, this is Christmas Eve dinner with the guys, not the goddamn Queen of England) and Samwell Hockey tees, "What the fuck am I gonna actually wear?" He wanted to look casual, but not too casual; he figured Lardo would be in some sort of dress/heels combo and Ransom and Holster in ugly as fuck Christmas sweaters. And Bitty would look amazing, as per usual. Bitty always looked great- hell, he’d make a chicken suit look good. Not that Jack would ever tell him. To be honest, the captain was more than a little anxious; he’d never spent Christmas away from Montreal before. With Jack’s dad playing up until a couple of days before Christmas, his family didn’t really have time to plan a gathering of relatives and friends or any sort of trip; most of the time, the Zimmermanns would attend a teammate’s dinner. But Christmas with his friends? Jack hadn’t had that. Ever. After an hour digging through the gigantic mound of clothes that enveloped his XL twin bed, he finally dug out a decent pair of dark jeans and a grey fleece pullover. Whatever. The guys and Lardo would still like him even if he showed up wearing those God-awful footie pajamas from _A Christmas Story_.

 

          Bitty loved Christmas Eve. Down in Georgia, any family friend or relatives within a fifty-mile radius would flock to his house and fill every room on the first floor, planting kisses on his cheek while simultaneously shoving gifts and dishes of food in his arms. There would be playful banter about how his uncle was the better chef or who supported the better football team coupled with sparkling glasses of mimosas and “Remember the Time When” stories; those were the times Bitty felt most at home. Sure, he’d be sans relatives this Christmas, but the team was his new family. And the fact that he could spend Christmas with Jack was an added bonus; Bitty had been pining over him for a solid year and a half, laughing at the Canadian’s awful chirps (like, really bad- not even the Harvard team was that sucky at chirping) and spending his free time teaching Jack how to cook. Bitty was suddenly shaken from his trance by the sound of the oven timer beeping that it had finished preheating and Shitty yelling up to him, “BITS! THE CHICKEN CAN GO IN NOW!”

          Downstairs was a flurry of activity: Shitty had taken to hanging up hockey socks as stockings on the railing while Ransom and Holster laid down the red, green, and gold tablecloth on the table. Chowder, Nursey, and Dex were busy stringing popcorn garland on the tree. Bitty felt a twinge of nervousness that one of them was actually going to strangle the other with the strand, but it was replaced with happiness when Dex started to laugh about how Nursey told Ransom to hang the mistletoe on his back belt loop so “The world can kiss my ass.”

“Bitty! Merry Christmas Eve, bud!” Lardo yelled as Bitty tied on his apron and shoved the chicken into the waiting oven.

“Merry Christmas Eve!” he replied, grinning.

“Okay, I peeled the potatoes, made the biscuit dough and put it in the fridge, and chopped lettuce for the salad. Anything else you need me to do?”

Bitty shook his head, “I’m all set right now, but thank you for all your help!”

“No problemo, dude! Now I gotta finish wrapping the presents for you guys. See you in a bit!” With that, Lardo skipped up the stairs and disappeared into Shitty’s room.

“Bittle?” a smooth baritone voice came from the doorway of the kitchen.

“Jeez, Jack! You scared the hell outta me!” Bitty heaved a few breaths, trying to regulate his pulse.

“Sorry,” he moved toward Bitty, “Do, uh, do you need any help?”

“Oh! Yes I do- could you possibly slice those potatoes into halves and put them in that pot, please?”

“Yeah,” Jack picked up the sharp paring knife and began slicing, biceps flexing under his grey pullover. Bitty smiled as he turned his attention back to spreading dough out on the cookie sheet; Jack was so focused on cutting the five pounds of potatoes, making sure that each half was perfectly divided. His brows were knit together in concentration and Bitty would be damned if it wasn’t the cutest thing ever. He enjoyed the comfortable silence between them- the Christmas music and loud chattering from the Frogs was enough to fill the space with warmth. Finally, Bitty alerted Shitty that dinner was ready, leading Shitty to yell upstairs to Lardo, Ransom, and Holster that food was done.

“Holy shit, Bits, I'm having a full-on nosegasm,” Ransom closed his eyes and breathed in the aroma of freshly-baked biscuits and cooked chicken.

“Dude, you’re literally Top Chef material,” Holster said as he finished pouring wine in their glasses.

“Y’all are too kind! Jack helped, too!” Bitty called from the kitchen.

“I knew it! He could cook, he was just using it as a ruse.”

That made Jack blush, red spreading from high on his cheekbones to the tips of his ears. Scratch whatever he thought about Jack helping him, Bitty decided that blushing Jack was indeed the Cutest Thing To Grace the Planet.

“I can’t cook. Bitty did all the important stuff,” Jack said shyly as he spooned the mashed potatoes into the ceramic serving bowl.

Just as the two headed out of the kitchen and into the living room, Lardo yelled, “Stay there!” and pointed up. There it was, hanging above the doorway directly above the two forwards’ heads: mistletoe.

“Ooooh, you gotta do it!!!” Chowder said.

“I-uh-” Jack stuttered and turned even redder.

“Jack Laurent Zimmermann, stop being a fuck and give ‘im a kiss!” Shitty crowed. With a chuckle, Bitty stood on his tiptoes and kissed Jack’s cheek softly. The rest of the table “AWWWWW”ed. Bitty bit his lip and stifled a giggle. Jack smiled. The dinner table quickly evolved into a mini-warzone, Ransom and Holster arguing over who got the other drumstick and fighting forks to see who got the green beans first.

“GUYS, LOOK!” Chowder pointed to the window, “It’s snowing!”

Bitty dropped his forkful of salad and rushed to the window. Sure enough, fat, white flakes had begun to fall from the sky, already giving the outside world a decent coating.

“It’s finally here,” he smiled and pressed his face to the frosty glass, breath fogging up the pane.

“You’d think he’d be used to this by now,” Holster chuckled.

“Shh, let the lil’ fucker have his moment,” Shitty whispered. Bitty eventually returned to the table just as Ransom hustled out of the kitchen with the two pies and a half-gallon of vanilla ice cream.

“Alright, our master pastry chef Bitty has prepared a maple sugar-crusted apple pie and a traditional pecan pie for us unworthy serfs to feast upon during this holiday season, so I think a toast is in order,” Ransom lifted his glass, “To the best teammate that could overthrow all of Food Network! To Bitty!”

“To Bitty!” his friends chorused.

“To Bitty,” Jack smiled again and sipped his merlot.

          It was around twelve-thirty on Christmas morning as Bitty sat on the couch, curled up in a blanket and watching the snow fall. A hush had fallen over the Haus, one so massive he couldn’t even hear Nursey’s snoring from the floor of Shitty’s room (although in retrospect, Lardo would have murdered him if he woke her up.) He sipped his hot cocoa and Bailey’s, readjusting his legs as he noticed his feet were asleep. The Christmas tree dazzled, a few small gifts in glittering gift bags and wrapping paper spread under the branches at the base. They had all bought each other Christmas presents, most of which were from Target (one of the few stores that remained open) or online. It was decided that Christmas would feel more "authentic" this way.

“Bitty?” the mug almost flew out of his hand.

“Jack, you really hafta stop sneakin’ up on me like that.”

“Sorry...again. Why are you up?” Jack sat next to Bitty. He could feel the warmth of the taller man radiating from his thermal shirt, indicating that he had just gotten out of bed.

“Figured since I couldn't sleep, I'd watch the snowstorm. I do this every Christmas- sit up ‘til about one and then sleep ‘til my little cousins wake me up to open presents,” Bitty blushed. He probably sounded so dumb, so naive. Jack probably went to bed at ten and woke up at eight-thirty on Christmas, “Why’re you up?”

“I think Ransom and Holster ate the cookies I left out.”

“You- you leave out cookies for Santa?” Bitty was awestruck. Jack was a hockey-playing robot who was, like, an _adulty_ adult.

“Yeah,” a small smile played at his lips, “I did it all the time as a kid. Guess some things just don't change, eh?”

“Mhmm,” Bitty hummed in agreement. He was suddenly extremely aware of the fact that Jack’s and his hips and thighs were pressed against each other and Jack was making zero effort to move. Bitty was one thousand percent okay with this.

“Hey, Eric?”

“Jack?”

“I kinda messed up tonight,” he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

“What happened?” Bitty stared back at him confusedly. Jack’s bright aqua eyes reflected the dim light being emitted by the tree and a few lit candles on the mantle.

“I didn’t- ,” he sighed, “I didn’t give you a kiss under the mistletoe.”

“Jack, it’s okay. I kissed you on the cheek, remember?”

“Yeah, but- ugh. Yes but it wasn’t-,” another sigh of frustration, “it wasn’t a real one, okay?”

Bitty could feel butterflies erupt in his stomach. He wasn’t sure if he was going to puke or shout or laugh, so he settled for a grin that stretched from ear to ear.

“Jack Laurent Zimmermann,” the shorter man rested his hand on Jack’s knee, “I’d be happy to give you your _real_  mistletoe kiss.” Jack leaned in and pressed their mouths together. Bitty’s lips were soft and warm, and Jack fucking loved it.

“Remind me to thank Ransom and Holster tomorrow. It’ll be their Christmas present,” Jack smirked against Bitty’s mouth. The kiss was slow, Jack’s tongue sliding across the inside of his winger’s lower lip languidly. Bitty had ended up curled against Jack’s side and was running his gentle touch over the line of Jack’s jaw, guiding his mouth as their lips moved in sync.

“C’mon, let’s go upstairs,” Jack whispered as they broke apart, “ _Pere Noel_ should be coming soon and I don’t want him to miss the Haus just because we were too busy making out to sleep.”

“You seriously still believe in Santa? Okay,” Bitty laughed.

"Who d'you thinks gives you those presents?" Jack sounded hilariously indignant.

"Come on now, Jack. That's, like, kid stuff!"

"Let's just go to bed, eh?" he held out his hand to Bitty.

After the candles had been extinguished and milk and cookies had been placed on the coffee table, the two made their way upstairs to dream about something along the lines of sugarplums and reindeer.

          “Come _on_ , guys, it’s Christmas morning! Wake up!” Chowder was making his rounds through the Haus, yelling like a five year-old that couldn't wait for his parents to wake up . Bitty stretched and glanced at the clock: ten AM. Jack stirred slightly, burying his head under the covers to avoid Chowder’s childlike excitement.

“Alright, Jack, sounds like everyone’s getting up,” Bitty shook the other man in an attempt to get him to open his eyes.

“ _Tabarnak,_ let me sleep,” he groaned.

“Jack, it’s Christmas. Get your butt outta bed.”

As the two sat upright (after much persuasion of the makeout variety from Bitty ), Shitty gasped, “Holy balls on a fucking stick.” 

When Jack and Bitty reached the top of the stairs, they glanced down to see a magnificent assortment of different-sized boxes in beautiful red and gold wrapping paper.

“Holy mother of God,” Bitty gasped. He had never seen so many presents in his life; even his Christmas tree at home with all of his cousins couldn’t even compare to this. The makeshift stockings had been filled to the brim with candies and trinkets. Chowder and Dex had already begun ripping through their own stockings with glee.

“Whoever did this,” Ransom smiled as he tore off the wrapping paper to reveal an  autographed Team Canada Patrice Bergeron jersey, “they’re fucking amazing.”

“Holy shit, a new Taylor acoustic guitar! It’s literally what I’ve wanted for, like, three years!!” Nursey gazed at the instrument as if it had been given to him by Jesus Himself, "Did any of you know about this?"

“What was that about Santa being kid stuff?” Jack murmured into Bitty’s ear, squeezing his hips.

“Fine, I take back whatever I said about him not being real,” Bitty leaned back and kissed his jaw.

“Hey, Bits! Stop smoochin’ Captain Fucking Christmas over there and open your presents!” Shitty tossed him a box whose tag read “To Bittle, from Jack.”

Bitty opened it and gasped so loudly it actually made Dex jump. Inside were two Starbucks gift cards with a cookbook called _The Baking Bible_.

“Jack, it’s perfect. I- I don’t know what to say.”

“Thank you?” Jack supplied with a shit-eating grin.

“That’s a good idea,” Bitty kissed him on the mouth, earning another round of “AWWWWW”s and one “Get a room, you weirdos” from Lardo.

As the rest of the group dove into the spectacular array of presents (including a brand-new composite Bauer APX stick for Jack and a Get Along Shirt for Dex and Nursey)  , Bitty was already wondering (and quite frankly praying) if they would be snowed in until New Year’s.

 

_Fin~_

 

 


End file.
